


she'll take a tumble on you (roll you like you were dice)

by pixelpunk



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Another entry into my "Beau getting wrecked" saga, Bottom Beau, Declarations Of Love, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hair-pulling, Light Masochism, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oops 126 happened and now there's feelings, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Yasha, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelpunk/pseuds/pixelpunk
Summary: “Don’t look away. If you do, I’ll stop.”Now with a post-ep126 sequel! (Just as horny and self-indulgent, but now with an added side of tender and sappy.)
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 10
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another exploration into the many uses of Beau's kinky sex mirror in her tower room...
> 
> Title is from "Bette Davis Eye" by Kim Carnes, aka my favorite sapphic song in existence - that I only now realized had the perfect reference for our favorite D&D lesbians.

Beau still couldn’t really believe that she deserved this.

They were in the tower, in Beau’s fancy new bedroom. She was naked, Yasha was still in her light clothing. Who seemed content to kiss and bite her way down Beau’s reclined form _forever_ , leaving a trail of truly impressive marks on Beau’s dark, flushed skin.

“Yasha.” Beau was not patient during sex, as a general rule.

“Shh.”

Yasha gave the tip of one of Beau’s small, pointy breasts the gentlest of kitten licks. Beau was not, as a general rule, very sensitive there. But this was _Yasha_ , and she _watched_ it happen. She squirmed, fists white-knuckling their grip on the sheets.

“I’ve waited a long time to do this,” Yasha murmured against her before sinking her teeth into Beau’s prominent hipbone.

The _“so I’ll take my sweet time doing it”_ went unsaid.

Yasha paused with her lips juuust under Beau’s abs, and she wanted to groan. It was the sweetest and slowest of burns, the best kind of agony she’d ever experienced.

“Beau… Lie down. On your back.”

Gods, Yasha’s _voice._ It was soft, tender, and not at all hesitant, and Beau found it unbearably arousing.

Beau scrambled to obey, past the point of embarrassment for how eager she was. And of course, she already knew the reason for the order - Beau’s eyes fell on the mirrored image of her on the ceiling of the canopy, sprawled out, hair akimbo, bespeckled with love bites, Yasha between her legs.

Who was _tying her hair back_ , having magically procured a tie from somewhere.

Right here, like this, there was little fumbling or inexperience. Sex was like battle in that way, and both women knew the moves.

Everything still caught Beau right in the chest.

“Don’t look away. If you do, I’ll stop.”

The breath punched it’s way out of Beau’s lungs. She watched, and felt, as Yasha spread her legs and pinned them down in certain grip, already knowing the exact flexibility Beau was capable of.

Yasha’s lips finally brushed her clit, and Beau _gasped._

“Yasha. _Yasha_.” She couldn’t stop herself from writhing as Yasha worked slowly, deliberately. Her strong, calloused hands were squeezing Beau’s thighs, hard, and she felt trapped in the best possible way.

Her hips jerked uncontrollably into Yasha’s tongue. She wanted, _needed_ to look down, to see Yasha’s face, but all she could do was helplessly watch herself be ruined, the top of a white head of hair the cause.

Beau couldn’t stop moaning, frantic noises from the back of her throat, as Yasha spread her out and _sucked_ , just a hint of teeth. Beau tangled a hand in her own hair and pulled, just to ground herself, and realized that Yasha was making noise too, little quiet content noises as her mouth relentlessly threatened to drive Beau insane.

It was that realization that suddenly had her careening off the edge.

“Ah- I-”

Beau came, panting with the sheer _force_ of it, Yasha’s tongue never letting up against her clit. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body tensed like a bowstring, but she kept watching. _Yasha wasn’t stopping_. A noise escaped her that Beau would vehemently deny but sounded an awful lot like a whimper when one hand released her thigh and Beau felt two long, practiced fingers press into her.

“Yasha!” 

It was so much. Beau’s eyes closed, unbidden.

“Open your eyes, Beau. I’m not done with you yet.”

She could have died happy right then. And as Yasha’s fingers quirked and then started to rub, as she continued working her mouth in tandem, Beau felt like dying was really the only comparison to make in sheer intensity. 

Beau wailed when she came again, euphoria wracking her body with shudders. Through it all, she could never be still, and Yasha remained her steadfast rock, that one firm grip on her thigh.

Three fingers pressed in this time.

It was the best possible stretch, the pain only making her blaze hotter. Yasha made no move to fuck her, just rubbing and pressing up against her inner walls in a way that made tears threaten to escape Beau’s eyes. And then they did.

She sobbed. “Yasha, _please-_ ”

Beau’s third orgasm finally took her with her own ruined, tear-streaked face crying out for mercy burned into the inside of her eyelids.

She covered her eyes with an arm as she panted desperately for air, trembling with aftershocks. Yasha was humming, planting sweet little kisses along her inner thighs. Beau finally looked down at her.

“Good?” Yasha was _smug_. Beau loved her.

“Come here,” Beau said as she pulled Yasha up and in for a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Yasha wanted it gentle.

Her white thighs embraced the sides of Beau’s face, her soft silver curls brushing Beau’s nose. (“So, the carpet  _ does _ match the drapes?”) Yasha kept rolling her hips slowly and smoothly against Beau’s tongue, the pace hypnotizing. She was petal-soft, and very slick, and her pussy was slate-gray with a faint shimmer, like polished silver. The taste of her was metallic and made Beau’s heart race, like the smell of static electricity in the air.

Yasha did not moan or scream, not really. She made murmuring, unbearably sweet noises that seemed to emerge from deep in the throat, cupping one of her own breasts, thumbing at a grey nipple. 

Beau had fantasized about being in this position since the day she saw Yasha. Blindly groping, she couldn’t help but massage the firm muscles of Yasha’s  _ spectacular _ ass, the dimples at the small of her back, as Yasha rode her face without urgency or fanfare.

A younger Beau, a Beau from another time, could have maybe found this insecurity-inducing. It was a testament to how much she’d matured and taken her time to understand the love of her life that she knew the nature of Yasha’s slow appreciation: savoring, not bored. 

Yasha was enjoying the feast, crumb by flavorful crumb. 

Beau could have honestly died happy underneath Yasha’s cunt, but after an indeterminate and dreamlike period of time, the thighs brushing her ears started tensing rhythmically.

“Beau… so good for me. So good.”

Yasha’s clit against her tongue twitched, the swaying turning into broken spasms. Beau kissed and licked into her, seeking as much pleasure as she could give. Yasha sighed indulgently and almost squirmed in place as she came. 

_ That’s so fucking cute. How is she so fucking cute? _

“Ah…” Yasha hummed, reaching down to stroke Beau’s hair away from her forehead as she lifted off of her. Beau planted a wet kiss on her inner knee before Yasha laid beside her, grinning.

“Hi,” Beau said, her voice low and viscous. Her wandering hands couldn’t and wouldn’t stop groping Yasha’s statuesque figure, the feeling of inhuman skin over pure strength.

“Hey.” Yasha just smiled serenely and kissed her again.

It started sweet and quickly turned molten when their tongues met.

Yasha was just so beautiful. Floral silk over steel. Beau tangled her hands in Yasha’s mess of dreaded, braided hair she was “trying to grow out” and wrapped a leg around her waist.

She broke away, her dual-toned eyes glowing.

“Thank you, by the way,” Yasha murmured.

“Hm, for what?”

“Taking care of me.”

The simple statement cracked something within Beau.

“Well. You take care of me, too, right?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. I just meant how you… know what I need.”

Beau thought of the letter. How Yasha made her feel _seen_.

“I’m bound to mess up.” 

Yasha opened her mouth to protest, but Beau cut her off with a raised hand.

“I mean, I’m bound to make mistakes. But I’m determined to try. I want to give you what you deserve, Yasha.”

Yasha’s indignant expression shifted to a shy little half-smile. She reached over to toy with Beau’s hand, running her thumb over the rough, scarred knuckles.

“I don’t know about ‘deserve,’ Beau.”

Beau flipped her hand to entwine their fingers. “Well, I do. And I think you deserve everything. Love. Happiness. Soft… things. I dunno.”

“You have been giving me all of those.” Something dark flashed in Yasha’s eyes. “And what do you deserve, Beau? What do you need?”

Caught off guard by the question, Beau lowered her voice to a mumble. “Oh. Er. You. I need you, obviously.”

“Good, I need you too.” Yasha rose over Beau, caging her in with her arms. Her hair fell in a curtain around their faces.

“What else do you need from me? Do you want… gentle? Soft?” As if to demonstrate, Yasha brushed her calloused fingers down Beau’s collarbone, down over her tensed abs, veering left and stroking her hip. Beau’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head.

“Uhhh…”

“You’re giving me what I need. What I want. And I want to do the same for you, right?”

Beau’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth. This was brutal. And Yasha was still just gently coaxing it out of her, like a vivisection.

“Well…”

“You want me to love you gently? Like this?” Yasha leaned down and pressed tender little kisses against Beau’s jaw, clenching and unclenching.

“Yeah…”

“But also?”

_Fuck me._ “You can… be rough with me. Like, y’know, before.”

Beau felt Yasha’s smile.

“Come on, I feel like you already knew that,” Beau whined.

Yasha’s teeth bared against Beau’s throat. “Still fun.”

Suddenly, without warning, Beau was grabbed and flipped over onto her stomach. She cursed in surprise, reflexes kicking in as her limbs splayed wildly. One wrist was swiftly grabbed and pinned against her back, her legs spread and hips lifted by a hard body against her, pinning her down. Beau’s free hand flexed into a fist… grabbing the sheets.

“Good? This alright?” Yasha asked, just a hint of uncertainty in her voice even as her grip was unbreakable.

“ _Y-yes_. Fuck.” Beau flexed and unflexed, testing Yasha’s hold. She could outmaneuver her if she slipped away, but that strength was non-negotiable. Her heart pounded, heat and adrenaline already pooling between her legs.

Yasha hummed behind her. A hand trailed up the line of Beau’s back, pausing at the nape of her neck. 

_ Right. The tattoo.  _

Beau held her breath. The hand only paused there for a moment, before Beau could feel Yasha lean down and plant a kiss right in the center.

Where the eye was.

Beau’s eyes prickled. Before… _some_ emotion could overwhelm her, Yasha wound a hand into Beau’s loose hair and slowly drew her head back. Not a sudden yank, but a steady, strong pull. Her breath left in a stressed gasp.

“I love you, Beau.”

“I love you, t- _Ah!”_

Yasha spanked her. Hard.

The shame and arousal crashed over her in a wave, raising her temperature to boiling. Reduced to short, panting breaths, she struggled to escape once more, and the half-hearted attempt’s failure only made her hotter.

Still sticky and sore from earlier in the night, Yasha spread Beau’s lips with one hand as if to inspect her. Beau keened, trying to rock backwards, but Yasha just shushed her.

When her two fingers fucked into Beau in a smooth motion, she could only cry out in sheer desperate pleasure.

Yasha fucked her roughly, one hand still holding her hair back as she was pinned and unable to even writhe away from the force. Her breath escaped her in wheezes and blissful, panicked moans.

“Fuck, fuck, Yasha, pleasepleaseplease-”

Insatiable as ever, it didn't take long.

Beau went down without a fight, begging for more even as Yasha fucked her through an orgasm that shocked every nerve in her body and made her shoulders shake with overwhelmed sobs. Beau was vibrating with electricity, the aftershocks rippling out from Yasha’s fingers almost as powerful as cumming again. 

Beau was alive. Beau was invincible. Beau was _loved._

Yasha stayed inside her for a long moment as Beau was lost in sensation, high off sex and nerves singing. The sheets underneath her face were damp with tears and drool. She forced her hand to unclench where the sheets had threatened to tear.

Yasha leaned over again, licking between Beau’s shoulder blades as she gently extracted her fingers. Beau groaned, flipping over and grabbing Yasha’s wrist.

She made eye contact as she brought Yasha’s hand to her tongue and cleaned herself off of it. Yasha’s hand twitched, expression tender. 

“Not enough?”

“Not enough.”

Beau tackled her into the pillows.


End file.
